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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25813270">Our boy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlight_jukebox/pseuds/moonlight_jukebox'>moonlight_jukebox</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Criminal Minds (US TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Childbirth, F/M, Fluff, So maybe some angst because childbirth, Tooth-Rotting Fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:00:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,408</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25813270</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlight_jukebox/pseuds/moonlight_jukebox</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Spencer Reid is anything but calm when his wife, reader, goes into labor.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Spencer Reid &amp; Reader, Spencer Reid/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>74</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Our boy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is just a quick little idea that popped into my head earlier. I wrote it all in one go. We don’t get enough Dad!Spencer. 😊 The reader's labor was inspired by true events.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Babe, you have got to calm down.” I didn’t even bother opening my eyes to look at my husband; I was too tired.</p><p>His voice was as close to a squawk as I have ever heard. “I am calm, y/n!” That had me cracking one eye open to stare at him, which caused him to huff out a short laugh. “Okay, maybe I’m not calm. But how can I be calm?” His beautiful brown eyes were swimming with worry. “This has taken such a long time, and you’re so tired. The doctor said things haven’t been progressing.”</p><p>“Oh, come on, <em>doctor</em>,” I said teasingly. “I’m sure that big brain of yours knows that it’s not uncommon for first time mothers to labor for a long time.”</p><p>“But it’s been thirty hours,” he protested.</p><p>“I’m aware. Talk to your son.” I pointed to my<em> very </em>large stomach. “This is his show.”</p><p>That caused him to smile, the first real smile I had seen on his face since he arrived here, about an hour after I did. We knew this was coming, I was overdue, our son choosing to stay inside my body for 41 weeks and 6 days. The doctors had said if I hit 42 weeks that we needed to discuss inducing labor. Because of that conversation, Spencer wasn’t with the rest of the team, they were on some case in god knows where, instead he was helping at headquarters with Penelope. The same woman I had called when my water broke. I wanted to call Spencer, I really did…but my husband is prone to overact, especially in situations like this.</p><p>Turns out calling Penelope wasn’t any better.</p><p>--</p><p>
  <em>“Hello, Mrs. Dr. Reid!” she had chirped. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Hi Penelope. Is my husband around?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“He is with the second love of his life.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Which meant he had made a coffee run. I laughed, despite the pain rippling across my stomach. “Okay, well, I need you to pull him away for the first love of his life. My water just broke.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>There was a beat of silence before the screaming started. “YOUR WHAT JUST WHAT?!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Just at that moment I heard him in the background. “Garcia,” my husband said. “Who’s what did what?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Penelope, be-“</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It was no use; she had already started screaming at him. “YOUR WIFE! YOUR SON IS TRYING TO EXIT HER LADY BUSINESS! WE HAVE TO GO!!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>They then promptly hung up, only to call back a few minutes later and ask which hospital I was at. </em>
</p><p>--</p><p>There was a knock on the door, drawing me out of my memories. “Mrs. Reid?” the doctor called before walking into the room. She was a short woman with curly grey hair; Spencer and I had never met her before, she was just the doctor on call, but something about her demeanor put me at ease.</p><p>I gave her a wan smile. “Hey Doc.”</p><p>She marched into the room them, no nonsense to be found; which was unfortunate, I was a very big fan of nonsense as perfectly highlighted by the man I chose to marry. “Mrs. Reid, I need to check to see where you’re at,” she said, already snapping on her gloves.</p><p>“Knock yourself out.” At a certain point during labor modesty just vanishes. I don’t even want to think about how many people have seen my vagina today.</p><p>I felt some pressure for a few seconds before she pulled back. “You’re still at 5 centimeters.”</p><p>This comment got a groan from my husband. “But she has to get to 10!”</p><p>“I’m aware, Dr. Reid.”</p><p>“She’s been in labor for 30 hours and 23 minutes and 16 seconds!”</p><p>“I am also aware of that, Dr. Reid,” she said, suppressing a smile. “Which is why we need to have a little chat.” She turned to me. “Mrs. Reid, I’m concerned about the baby.”</p><p>That caused mine and Spencer’s spines to stiffen. “What,” I asked. “Why? Is something wrong?”</p><p>“Not yet,” the doctor said hurriedly. “We have been monitoring your contractions and vitals…but we also monitor the baby’s heartrate. It’s nothing to be too alarmed about now, but his heartrate has slowed a bit.”</p><p>“But what does that mean? Is he in destress?” My husband asked; he sounded so afraid that I instinctively reached out to grasp his hand.</p><p>“It means he’s tired, Dr. Reid.” She offered us a small smile. “Mrs. Reid isn’t the only one going through this. The baby is too. Like I said, it’s not low enough to be an issue now, but if it drops much lower, we need to discuss other options.”</p><p>“…he’s <em>tired?</em>” my voice cracked on the last word, tears already pricking in the corners of my eyes.</p><p>“Baby,” Spencer whispered, leaning over to place a kiss on my temple. “It’s alright.”</p><p>I shook my head. “It’s not. It’s not alright. He’s my baby, Spencer. He’s our baby,” I all but bawled at him. “Our baby is tired.” I’m sure one day I’ll look back at this moment and feel silly for how upset I had become…but I was so tired, and while the epidural numbed the pain, I still felt it. All of that I could endure, but I couldn’t endure this.</p><p>“I know,” he soothed. “But he’s fine. He’s okay.”</p><p>“I want to discuss other options,” I said, meeting the doctor’s gaze. “What are they?”</p><p>The doctor nodded, “Well, we could start a Pitocin IV. That’s a medicine we use to-“</p><p>“Cause the uterus to contract and speed up or induce labor,” Spencer interrupted, causing me to laugh, despite my tears. Even in times like this he was still…Spencer.</p><p>The doctor did not share in my amusement. “Yes,” she huffed. “That is one option. It runs the same risks, if his heartrate drops, we’ll need to move you to the O.R.” I gulped and Spencer squeezed my hand. “The other option is to take you back to the O.R. now.”</p><p>I looked over at Spencer, his eyes were wide and frightened, his always messy, curly hair was in a worse state than usual, his clothes were wrinkled. “I want our boy, Spence.”</p><p>He just nodded, bringing our joined hands up to his mouth to press a kiss to my knuckles. “It’s up to you, y/n. You know I’ll support whatever you want.”</p><p>Spencer gave me the courage to turn to face the doctor. “Let’s do it.”</p><p>--</p><p>Things progressed very quickly and very slowly at the same time. The room started bustling with different people doing different things to get me ready. Spencer called Penelope, who called the rest of his team, who were now all in the waiting room. How much Spencer’s co-workers at the FBI cared about him made me smile; they were his family, and by extension my family. Our little boy was going to be the most well looked after child in history.</p><p>Before I knew it, I was laying on my back in the operating room, a blue sheet put up just below my boobies. Apparently, most people didn’t want to watch themselves have a c-section. I couldn’t but laugh at the absurdity of the moment.</p><p>“What is it, my love?”</p><p>I turned my head to look at Spencer. His clothes were covered by some sort of yellow outfit, his hair was stuffed in one of those blue hat’s hospitals make you wear, I’m sure he could tell me the proper name, even his shoes were covered. One of his hands was gripping mine, the other slowly stroking the top of my head.</p><p>“I was just thinking about everything. Remember when we met?”</p><p>I realized how silly it was to ask a man with an eidetic memory if he remembered something right after I said it, something with which he agreed, given the look on his face. “Yes, y/n, I remember.” His hand squeezed mine tightly. “It was a Tuesday morning, at 7:34 a.m. You had on black pants and a light blue top, you didn’t notice me, but I thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world.”</p><p>That caused a tear to slide down from the corner of my eye, only to be wiped away by my husband. “I didn’t notice you because you were in line behind me,” I teased.</p><p>“That’s no excuse,” he insisted. “I would notice you anywhere.”</p><p>That made my heart squeeze in my chest. “I must be pretty special,” I surmised. “I pulled your attention away from coffee.”</p><p>His voice was breathy, his eyes shimmering. “You’re the most special thing in the entire world, y/n. I don’t know what I did to deserve you. I don’t know how I got the courage to speak to you when you walked by me, but I’ll be grateful that I did it for the rest of my life.”</p><p>It was my turn to reach up and wipe a tear from his face. “I’m glad you stopped me,” I whispered. “Our little guy probably is too.”</p><p>Spencer didn’t laugh like I expected him to; instead he bit his lip, his eyes bouncing from my face to the blue curtain that separated us from the doctors.</p><p>“What is it, baby?”</p><p>He swallowed, letting out a shaky breath. “I’m scared, y/n,” he whispered. “I’m afraid that I won’t be any good at this. I never had a dad…What if I’m not everything he needs me to be?”</p><p>I felt my heart crack in half. “Spencer, that’s not possible,” I insisted, ignoring the way he started to shake his head. “You could never let <em>anyone</em> down, especially not your family. Especially not your <em>son.</em> You are going to be the most amazing father. You’re going to love our son so much; you already <em>do </em>love him that much, Spence.”</p><p>He was crying in earnest now. “But, y/n,”</p><p>Spencer never got to finish that sentence. The doctor suddenly interrupted our hushed conversation. “Okay, dad,” she called. “Here he comes!”</p><p>My husband placed a kiss on my forehead before he stood up, looking over the curtain. He had insisted beforehand that he wasn’t going to look; he said he didn’t want to see me like that, but I knew he’d end up looking. My husband was far too curious to do anything else.  </p><p>A shrill cry cut through the air, causing my heart to stop. That was him. I had never heard him cry before, but I knew that sound as sure as I knew my own name; that was <em>my </em>son.</p><p>Spencer and I were crying when the doctor brought him around the curtain so I could see him. He was wrinkly, red, and looked positively furious. I had never loved anything more.</p><p>They took him to the examination room to make sure he was breathing okay. Spencer had told me after c-section births this was normal. “They don’t get squeezed when they’re born,” he had said. “So, the nurse checks them over, weighs them, all that.”</p><p>He looked down at me, tears streaming down his face, then back towards our son.</p><p>“Go,” I urged him. “Go get our boy, Spence. I’m fine.”</p><p>--</p><p>Spencer’s head poked through the door of my room. “Are you ready?” he asked.</p><p>“REID. If you don’t get the fuck out of my way and let me see my godson I swear to <em>GOD.” </em></p><p>“Oh,” I groaned, giggling slightly, despite the pain. “Please don’t make me laugh.”</p><p>I don’t know if Spencer moved willingly or if Penelope had just had enough, but soon the door was thrown open and a parade of people poured inside.</p><p>“Oh, my god, Mrs. Dr. Reid,” Penelope gushed, her hands hovering over my son, then back up towards my face. “You look like an angel. How did you just have major surgery? How did you just give <em>birth</em>, because a c-section is giving birth-“</p><p>“Penelope,” I cut her off. “Do you want to see him?”</p><p>“Gimme.”</p><p>I pulled the blankets down around his body, staring at his little face before I handed him over.</p><p>“Oh, my mother effin god,” she whispered, looking around at everyone else in the room. “He is the most beautiful child I have ever seen. He even looks like a genius. I don’t know if you can look like a genius, but I think he does.”</p><p>“You don’t have to whisper, Garcia,” my husband said, coming to stand beside me, leaning over to kiss my forehead again. “She is right though, Mrs. Dr. Reid. You’re beautiful.”</p><p>“Quit hogging the baby,” JJ said, reaching for him. “I’m the co-god mother. Hand him over.”</p><p>Emily leaned over JJ’s shoulder, staring at him with a look of wonder. “What did you guys decide to name him?”</p><p>“Arthur,” I said quietly. “His name is Arthur Spencer Reid.”</p><p>--</p><p>The room was dark when I opened my eyes, my head turning towards the tiny cry that woke me up.</p><p>“I know, I know,” my husband whispered to the tiny bundle in his arms. “I miss your mom too; she’s the best person in the world and I wish she could be awake all the time too.” I bit my lip, trying to suppress my laugh. “But you have to let her sleep some, little man.” My son gave another cry. “I know, believe me.”</p><p>“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice thick with sleep.</p><p>“Talking to Arthur,” he said simply. “You know, speaking to a child whenever they reach the babbling stage of their cognitive development is actually very important. It encourages them to learn the language they’re hearing. You know, children are actually experts at learning languages. Studies have shown that children that become fluent in a language before the age of 13 are often able to fool native speakers into thinking they’re native speakers themselves.”</p><p>“Huh,” I said, smiling like a dope. That was my Spencer. “Did you hear that, Arthur? It sounds like your dad wants to teach you some languages.”</p><p>“Only a couple,” he whispered to our boy. Then he looked up at me, his eyes bright, despite the dark circles under them.</p><p>“You’re tired, babe,” I said, moving to sit up. “Give him here, you can get some rest.”</p><p>He just shook his head. “No, I’m alright. You rest.” Spencer looked down at his son again, who was already back to sleep. “No dream I have could be better than this.”</p><p>As usual, Dr. Spencer Reid was absolutely right.</p>
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